


As You Wish

by apearlinmyhead



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Costume Parties & Masquerades, M/M, hidden identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17204207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apearlinmyhead/pseuds/apearlinmyhead
Summary: College AU: Ichigo and friends get invited to a halloween masquerade party, and a stranger keeps bumping into Ichigo. So what's the harm in a little tipsy fun?     EDIT: This story has been expanded. See Not So Easy A for a longer story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This fic was expanded on in Not So Easy A, and is currently caught up to this part. If you want a longer read, maybe start there, otherwise thanks for checking this out and enjoy this little one shot!

Sitting on the slightly grimy bathroom floor of Renji’s house, Ichigo was beginning to have some regrets. Yumichika hovered over him, a spray can of hair dye in hand. Ichigo watched, disassociating slightly, as his signature orange tufts of hair were slowly and meticulously coated in black.

 

“Why did I agree to this?” Ichigo whined, taking a large gulp of the beer in his hand. The stranger in the mirror drank too.

 

“Because it’s a _masquerade_ party. The whole point is that no one knows who anyone else is. It won’t work if people see your hair ‘cause no one else looks like that. Besides, it’s Halloween, and it’s fun, so shut up and let me finish.”

 

“I don’t know anyone who will be there anyway,” Ichigo grumbled.

 

Yumichika gave the can a shake, dismissing any more complaints, and continued combing over Ichigo’s head. He had a good point anyway, Ichigo thought. Yumichika always managed to find out about the best parties to go to: this one, in particular, was being thrown by some senior drama students, both to promote the upcoming production of Phantom of the Opera, and as a good excuse to raid the costume shop.

 

When Renji, partly in costume, stopped in the bathroom doorway to see the progress, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

 

“Oi, who’s this random you got up here, Yumi?” Renji jested, a huge grin on his face. “Don’t let your boyfriend catch you in the bathroom with another man!” he half yelled down the hall.

 

“What about his boyfriend?” Ikkaku yelled back. Heavy footsteps ran up the stairs and seconds later a shiny bald head poked into the room. “Well well well, look at you in black. Looks good, Kurosaki.” Smiling wickedly, he taunted Ichigo with an almost violating up and down inspection.

 

Yumichika scowled in response. “My hair is naturally black,” he said, his tone almost seeming aloof if it weren’t for the clear jealousy on his face.

 

Ikkaku’s expression changed to a softened yet devious smile as he focused his attention on his neglected boyfriend and stepped into the cramped bathroom. “I know,” he said, his voice an octave lower. “I find it incredibly sexy.” His fingers began to weave into the shoulder-length locks, only grab Yumichika by the back of the head and pull him in for an uncomfortably intimate kiss.

 

“OKAY!” Ichigo yelped, jumping up from the floor next to them, while Renji half yelled, half groaned at them to get a room.

 

Yumichika finally pulled away, though still held tightly by Ikkaku’s arms. He was blushing wildly and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Wow, gay,” he said, trying and failing to be composed and nonchalant. “You’re going to smudge my makeup.” His complaint was half-hearted though. He made it while examining his face critically in the mirror. The intricate design hadn’t budged. Whatever makeup setting stuff those theater kids used, they weren’t messing around.

 

Ikkaku, satisfied with his work, pulled away, swaggered out of the room, and had nearly made it down the stairs when Renji decided to start pushing some buttons.

 

“Weird how much you care about hair even though you have none.”

 

“It’s SHAVED!” Ikkaku yelled, starting to sprint back up.

 

Renji made a run for it, a maniacal grin spread wide across his face. A door down the hall slammed closed before Ikkaku could get there, and he began to slam on it repeatedly, promising the beating of a lifetime.

 

“I think you’re all set here,” Yumichika said, returning his attention to Ichigo. “Your mask is on Renji’s bed with the rest of your costume, so go get dressed. I want to be there by 10, and we’re all doing shots before we leave.”

 

Obediently, Ichigo left his spot on the floor and headed to Renji’s room, where he had left his bag earlier.

 

“It’s stupid you don’t live here dude. I don’t know why you insist on living on campus,” the redhead quipped when Ichigo got to his room. Ikkaku had disappeared back down the stairs to answer a demanding knock on the door.

 

“Maybe if you guys didn’t live like fucking animals I would. The only reason anything gets cleaned is because of Yumichika, and he doesn’t even live here.”

 

“He might as well honestly, he’s here with Ikkaku like basically every night. As far as I’m concerned his cleaning is the price he pays for making us listen to their fucking.”

 

“Disgusting, no thank you,” Ichigo said, scrunching his face. “You’re not hiding your hair? It’s just as distinct as mine.”

 

“Nah, I figured it’s only for if you’re trying to lowkey hook up with someone no strings attached. Isn’t that your plan?” he said, smirking.

 

“Oh! nnn..nn No! I mean.. uh... not really! I’m not planning anything!” Ichigo sputtered. He hadn’t even considered that.

 

Renji’s shit-eating grin got bigger. “If you say so. Hurry up and get dressed, you pervert.”

 

Renji left the room, hollering down the hall for Ikkaku to get him a beer, leaving Ichigo, who was now extremely self-conscious, to examine the costume he’d been given.

 

Halloween had never been a huge thing for Ichigo, though once he was in college, it was pretty pervasive. This year, he carried on a tradition, now in its third year, of letting Yumichika pick what he’d be. The first year, when Yumichika was a freshman and Ichigo was sophomore, was the year of the skeleton. Despite Ichigo’s initial complaints, Yumichika has insisted it was a Halloween classic, and that it would be practically criminal to not dress up. He probably would have been more on board had the costume been more traditional and less of a “sexy” take on the concept of bones. The second year, Ichigo accepted the costume easily. The group was going as the Power Rangers, and Yumichika had already found everyone costumes.

 

This year, Yumichika was going back to basics. Tentatively, he picked up the headpiece and mask. A sexy cat. Ichigo rolled his eyes. At least the clothes themselves were relatively inoffensive and not a combo of a crop top and leggings, the way the skeleton had been. A pair of well-fitting, black skinny jeans from Ichigo’s own closet, picked out earlier in the week, and a black turtleneck from Yumichika’s. Ichigo pulled it on over his head. It was fairly snug since Yumichika was much slimmer, but he had to admit it looked pretty good, showing of his body without being in-your-face sexy. Ichigo probably wouldn’t have picked it out for himself, but hey, it looked good. The tail was easily secured to the belt loops of the pants, and Ichigo placed the ears on his newly black-haired head. Mask in hand, he headed downstairs to join his friends, who had been steadily growing louder.

 

“There he is!” Ikkaku’s voice echoed through the house.

 

Everyone else was already dressed, and Ichigo assessed them as he came down the stairs, wanting to see how he measured up. Ikkaku was a classic looking vampire, while Yumichika was dressed as a very dramatic bat. He was all in black as well, with a cape for wings. The intricate makeup and mask combo that Ichigo had already seen actually made the whole look. Renji and Rukia also had a couple costume on, which, good for them for finally admitting they were a thing now, Ichigo thought. The pair were dressed as an immediately recognizable Archie and Veronica, fully ignoring the masquerade part of the party. Orihime stood by the kitchen counter and had opted to go more masquerade than Halloween. She was dressed as a flapper girl and had her mask resting on top of her head.

 

“Took you long enough! Sado is driving us, so shots before we go!” Orihime shouted, a bottle of clear alcohol in her hand, raised above her head.

 

“She’s already in deep, and Madarame’s keeping pace,” Rukia whispered to Ichigo once he got over to them. “I didn’t realize I’d be the last one here. I’m so far behind all of you.”

 

“Let’s do this!” Ikkaku yelled.

 

Shot glasses made their way around the little circle they had formed in the kitchen.

 

“Three, two one!”

 

Fire seared down Ichigo’s throat. He’d never get used to doing shots, as long as he lived. At least Rukia looked uncomfortable too. Something about shots got easier when you were already drunk. Though it _was_ easier to get drunk doing shots so... double edged sword really.

 

Two beeps sounded from outside. A large mummy was in the front seat of the van in the driveway, chunks of brown wavy hair and two brown eyes sticking out under the layers of bandages.

 

Sado’s maroon van was both the butt of jokes and a saving grace for the group of friends. The van was massive, much like the man who owned it, seating 10 people legally, though legend had it, they’d once gotten 18 people in there. Big as it was, it was also ugly as sin. The previous owner had painted two humanoid arms on either side. One looked like a weird rocket and the other like a shield. Sado refused to get it painted over though; he insisted it would be bad luck.

 

They could always count on Sado to be the designated driver. He almost never drank, which frequently made him the mother hen of the group. He was notorious for making rounds with glasses of water, taking the shoes off of anyone who passed out and fetching cheap tacos for everyone towards the end of the night. The only time anyone saw him drink was at the parties they hosted, and even then he was no party animal.

 

Sometimes on the weekend, Sado would run a shuttle service from campus to the various parties happening around town. He had a reputation for having the cheapest rates for rides, but often, the generous tips he received from his drunken passengers more than made up for the discounted price. Halloween weekend was too good of a business opportunity to miss, so tonight he was starting his rounds with his own housemates.

 

At Ikkaku’s insistence, the group did one last round of shots before piling into the van. He took the front passenger seat and the aux cord, DJing their way to the inauspicious house that hosted every party thrown by the theater students.

 

Over his years at college, Ichigo had been to this house once or twice, but Yumichika was a regular. When the group arrived in the driveway, a table was set in front of the gate to the backyard. Two students sat there. Seeing Yumichika and his extravagant costume, they began snapping, a chorus of “Yasss” coming from them.

 

Yumichika gave a twirl, showing off his cape, which truthfully, was fantastic. Ikkaku came over, placing a protective hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He knew his boyfriend was attractive, and even after two years of dating couldn’t help being jealous seeing someone else lavish attention on him.

 

“Five bucks, everyone,” said the smaller boy behind the table.

 

In exchange, they got wristbands and a plastic cup, which, according to Yumichika’s twinky theater friends, were good for beer and a mixed drink. He led them to the back porch and into the house, already crowded and pulsing with music. Whatever song was on must have been popular, because almost everyone was singing along. In front of Ichigo, Orihime grabbed his wrist, dragging him along as she followed Yumichika down to the basement; the rest of the group trailing behind him.

 

Much like the house where Renji, Ikkaku, and Sado lived, this drama house had been passed down over the generations from graduating seniors to the upperclassmen replacing them. Like a frat house, the legacy of theater students past lived on in the walls of the house. It was covered with show posters, some dating back over 10 years. It was grimy, just like Renji’s house, but the floors here were covered in a light dusting of ground in glitter that would never truly disappear.

 

The basement was, if possible, much louder. The residents of the house had built a bar in the corner and were serving shots of cheap alcohol, beer from a keg, and some sort of colorfully mixed drink in a suspicious bucket that Ichigo eyed warily.

 

The rest of the room was a makeshift dance floor, which Yumichika took to immediately and without warning, dragging Ikkaku suddenly along with him.  

 

Renji openly laughed at the scene, Ikkaku’s displeasure was obvious. He helped himself to a beer and made himself comfortable on the arm of a sofa that Orihime and Rukia had taken over.

 

Once he got into it, Ikkaku was actually a good dancer, and the shots back at the house probably didn’t hurt either. It seemed like Yumichika’s natural grace and general beauty had rubbed off on him a bit, though Ikkaku’s face always looked a bit pained; like he was thinking really hard about it, or like he was about to get in a fight.

 

“If you look closely, that’s the same expression Ikkaku wears when he’s playing soccer,” Renji leaned over to Ichigo, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

 

“Yeah, he always looked like that in our math class junior year as well,” Ichigo said.

 

“I imagine it’s the same one he’s got on in bed, too.” Renji’s eyebrows waggled suggestively.

 

“God, please, don’t do this to me,” Ichigo complained. “It’s bad enough I had to watch them grope each other earlier, plus your short story about them fucking.” He turned away, unable to look at his dancing friends anymore, thanks to the image of a sweaty, mid-coitus Ikkaku now burned into his mind’s eye. “Why’d you have to put that image in my head?”

 

“Look, if I have to be burdened with these thoughts, so do you,” Renji said with an unapologetic shrug. He took another long drink of his beer while looking around the room. “I don’t fucking know anyone here.”

 

“Yeah, I’m in the same boat, I think. I mean, I know it’s a masquerade party or whatever, but damn.”

 

“I guess. You’re the one with the mask on, not me.”

 

“Fair enough. What do you think, like 60% people wearing masks?”

 

“More. Looks like a fuckin heist movie down here.”

 

Renji looked around the room casually, then nodded at Ichigo. “You don’t know that guy, do you?” he said, jutting his chin towards the stairs.

 

Ichigo looked over, only to see a tall man in all black turning away. “I don’t think so?”

 

“He was checking you out, then,” Renji grinned, slapping Ichigo on the leg

 

“How could you possibly know this?”

 

“I just know. He turned away too quickly.”

 

“You don’t think he was just looking at your weirdly big head?”

 

“Alright, fine,” Renji said, his hands up. “If that’s how you want to play it, that’s okay. I’m just trying to wingman you here. Just pointing you in the right direction.”

 

Ichigo couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Okay, well, thanks, I guess. What are you going to do, go over there and tell him, ‘Hey my friend thinks you’re hot’?”

 

“You want me to?” Renji started making an exaggeratedly slow move in the direction the man had disappeared in.

 

“No!” Ichigo yelped, embarrassingly high pitched, though it was drowned out by the loud music.

 

Renji’s smile was smug as he sat back down on the couch’s arm. “Alright, if you say so.”

 

“I’m going to kill you one day.”

 

“We’ll see. You can’t kill me if you’re blushing in a corner.”

 

“You really think I want to hook up with some random tonight? And then what? Like, talk to them? About me? About my life? Their life? Absolutely not.”

 

“What? No one is saying you have to date them. Literally just go let off some steam. You’re constantly wound up, it’s painful to watch. You know what I mean,” Renji added seeing the hurt look on Ichigo’s face. “I just want you to be happy, man.”

 

Ichigo looked away from his friend to see Yumichika and Ikkaku starting to make their way back to the group on the couch.

 

“I want to play a game. They’ve got tables upstairs,” Ikkaku said, clearly exhausted by trying to keep up with Yumichika on the dance floor.

 

“I would like to play some slap cup, but I’m down for anything,” Orihime spoke up from the couch. She and Rukia had been carrying on their own conversation, trying to determine the unholy combination of ingredients in the jungle juice they were both cautiously sipping on.

 

“I want another beer,” Renji said, draining his cup.

 

“I would like to use the restroom. Where is it, Yumi?”

 

“Oh I’ll send you to the secret one, there’s probably no line. The rest of you follow me, you needy children. You act like you can’t do stuff at a party without me.”

 

Yumichika directed Ichigo towards a weird doorway to the side of the basement, the opening camouflaged by a throw blanket emblazoned with Bette Midler’s face. Behind it, a hall that really fit the Halloween spirit led to a small, dank laundry room. In the corner, a slender boy was heaving his guts into the utility sink while his friend, dressed as a bumblebee, patted his back soothingly. On the right, the bathroom door was slightly ajar.

 

Though Ichigo finished up quickly, by the time he left the small bathroom, the vomiting freshman and his guardian bumblebee were gone. Relieved to be out of the noise and crowd for a moment, he took his time looking around the cement blocked room. There hadn’t been a mirror in the bathroom, but there was one over this laundry sink. The medicine cabinet held powdered detergent, an empty box of dryer sheets, and a first aid kit. Ichigo looked at himself in the mirror, the way one does when they’re tipsy and trying to keep it together, admiring his new hair color and the weird sense of anonymity it brought him. Renji’s words were echoing in his head. Maybe he did need to find someone to unwind with. He was about to remove his mask and rub his eyes when a presence he hadn’t noticed earlier made itself known.

 

“ _Tch, tch, tch_ ” came a voice from the hall behind him.

 

Ichigo wheeled around, caught off guard. “Uh, what?”

 

“Isn’t that the noise you make when you want to get a cat’s attention?” A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out of the shadow, repeating the noise. His posture was loose and casual, his hands stuck in his pockets. It was the same person Ichigo had seen coming down the stairs.

 

“Oh very funny,” he replied sarcastically. And what are you supposed to be anyway?”

 

The man was dressed head to toe in black, leather boots coming up his calf and a billowy black shirt with a low neck that exposed part of what promised to be a well-defined chest. A large handkerchief covered his hair entirely and a black mask covered his eyes, cheekbones, and most of his nose. At his waist, a plastic sword was tucked into his belt.

 

“Hazard a guess?” The masked stranger taunted, irritating Ichigo more than it should have.

 

“I’m the masked bandit, Zorro,” the man supplied after Ichigo took too long to answer. “Although someone more romantic might say I’m Wesley from the Princess Bride. Do you have a preference?”

 

“Zorro.”

 

“Como deseés.”

 

Ichigo didn’t understand the Spanish. He felt his face grow red under his mask. The only way to make up for his embarrassment was to establish dominance right? He began to close the gap between them.

 

“Doesn’t Zorro have a hat and cape?” he asked a bit more bitingly than he meant.

 

“Got me there, guess I’m the Dread Pirate Roberts after all,” the bandit replied, unaffected by Ichigo’s taunt. “Though, to be fair, they have a lot in common. Dressed in black, suave as hell, good with a sword.” The man winked.

 

The wink caught him off guard. Again. Ichigo forgot he had started moving closer to him when he suddenly realized how little space remained between them, and that he had nowhere to go. Coolly, he leaned against the other side of the hall, determined to be aloof. What was up with this guy?

 

“So, _stranger,_ you just follow boys into the bathroom?”

 

“I didn’t realize this was a bathroom, but you can’t blame me for wanting to say hi.”

 

The lightbulb finally clicked in his head.

 

“Oh, is that what you wanted to do?” Ichigo replied smoothly. Maybe Renji had pointed him in the right direction after all.

 

“Well, it’s a good start anyway, don’t you think?” came the reply.

 

Ichigo started to take a good look at the stranger. The man was a few inches taller than him and more muscular. Though most of his face was covered, a strong jawline stuck out prominently, but what Ichigo noticed most were his startling blue eyes, peering out from the mask. He continued to gaze up into them, drawn in magnetically, when from the other end of the hall came a shout.

 

“Look out!”

 

Bumblebee girl was back, this time with a different hurling teenager, no doubt drunk for the first time. She pushed him down the hallway, in between the pair, effectively breaking the tension between Ichigo and this supposed Zorro. The atmospheric sounds of vomiting echoed in the sink, reverberating off the concrete walls and killing the mood.

 

Feeling suddenly embarrassed, Ichigo blurted out, “I should go check on my friends.” With that, he turned his back and walked a little too briskly out of the hall.

 

Ichigo decided he needed some air. Pushing his way past a pair of underclassmen who were getting incredibly sloppy, he made his way out of the basement and into the living room, grabbing another beer on the way. He needed it. There, he found Ikkaku and Renji at a beer pong table, facing off against someone that Ichigo hadn’t realized was at the party.

 

Tatsuki and Orihime were standing at the far edge of the table, and were handily beating the boys at the game. They had both pushed their masks up onto the top of their heads, clearly choosing to give up on the charade in favor of optimal playing conditions. Tatsuki, the taller of the two, had one arm wrapped securely around Orihime, casually sinking a ping pong ball into a cup on the other side of the table.

 

“Fuck, God, Tatsuki, give us a chance will you?” Renji complained.

 

“Don’t know what to tell you, dude, get good,” she replied, using her free hand to take a sip of her drink.

 

“There you are, man, you’ve been gone forever,” Ikkaku said, realizing that Ichigo had joined them.

 

“Who?...” Tatsuki began to ask, looking at Ichigo.

 

“It’s obviously Ichigo,” Rukia supplied, standing slightly behind Renji, trying to hype him up for his turn at the game at hand by rubbing his shoulders.

 

“Wha.. obviously?” Tatsuki said, incredulously.

 

To prove it, Ichigo lifted his mask a little and winked, before bringing it back down with a chuckle.

 

“Oh, jeez, sorry. I didn’t realize how much I relied on your hair to find you!” she laughed. Her laugh quickly stopped as a whoop came up from the boys’ end of the table.

 

“Hell yeah! This is a comeback!” Renji rejoiced.

 

“It’s one cup, dude, you need like 5 to even have a chance of beating us,” Orihime said, her words slurring ever so slightly. Maybe Tatsuki was just holding her up at this point. Maybe they were holding each other up like a three-legged race? Either way, they seemed to be doing better than Ikkaku and Renji.

 

“It’s a start, anyway,” Ikkaku grinned, his mouth a little lopsided.

 

“You say that Babe, but I’m going to have to start rooting for the other team if you don’t start playing better, know what I mean?” Yumichika said slyly. He was standing in the middle of the table, on the opposite side of the table as Ichigo.

 

They did not start playing better. By the end of the game, even Rukia was reluctantly cheering against her own boyfriend. No one was up next for the table, so the two teams started another game with a fresh round of drinks, the boys hoping to redeem themselves.

 

Thought it seemed impossible, Ikkaku and Renji played worse. Topping off the scene was Orihime, constantly reminding everyone how good she was at playing beer pong while drunk. Tatsuki nodded along solemnly, though she couldn’t hide that she, too, was in her own sweet spot of drunken pong ability.

 

After Ikkaku missed yet another cup, Yumichika motioned to Ichigo, “Come walk with me for a second, I need fresh air.”

 

“Babe, if you leave it’s bad luck for me,” Ikkaku protested.

 

“Seems like I’m bad luck right now.”

 

A chorus of “Oooohhh” came up from the girls, and with that, Yumichika grabbed Ichigo’s shoulder and started to steer him towards the back door.

 

The pair navigated their way out of the crowded house onto the back porch. It was largely unoccupied, save for a handful of people smoking. A girl dressed as a witch that Ichigo didn’t recognize greeted Yumichika and offered a cigarette.

 

“You think someone with skin like me smokes cigarettes?” Yumichika scoffed jokingly.

 

She laughed and pulled out a joint instead. This time, Yumichika accepted and took one long drag before handing it back. He turned back to Ichigo, who was leaning back against the porch railing.

 

“Someone’s been watching you,” he breathed out slowly, releasing a cloud of smoke with it.

 

“Ah, yeah, he actually approached me,” Ichigo replied.

 

“The one with the sword?”

 

“Yeah, we ran into each other as I was leaving the restroom.”

 

“Hmmm...” Yumichika hummed. They both gazed out into the yard for several long minutes. “You gonna try to hit that then?”

 

“That?” Ichigo asked, pointing at the joint that had made its way back to Yumichika.

 

“Oh, no, I mean unless you want to,” Yumichika said, offering. Ichigo shook his head no. “I meant Zorro back there.”

 

“He’s really more like Dread Pirate Roberts.”

 

“Who?”

 

“From The Princess Bride. Zorro has a hat and cape.”

 

“I see.”

 

“We talked about it is all.”

 

“Mmm. Well, you should ask him if he needs some booty, being a pirate and all.”

 

Ichigo bristled at the comment. “I don’t even know who he is!”

 

“That’s part of the fun, right? Besides, even if you can’t see his face, no doubt he’s hot. Just go make out in the bushes. Or like, see what’s up with his bush, yeah?”

 

“What!” Ichigo said, louder than he meant to and earning a few shushes from the other people on the porch.

 

Yumichika shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s my job as your gayest friend to encourage this behavior. Besides, now that I’m all settled down, I have to live my fantasies through you.”

 

“Jesus, Yumi, is Ikkaku not enough for you?”

 

“Oh, no, he’s more than enough for me. Why do you think I’ve stayed with him?” Yumichika grinned wickedly, raised eyebrows filled with implication.

 

“Ohhhhhkay, that’s.. that’s enough. I’m good. Renji tells me enough about it as it is.”

 

“Oh didn’t realize Abarai was into that.”

 

“Yikes, please. I’m in hell having this conversation. Please stop making me talk about your sex life.” Ichigo’s expression changed from joking to serious. “You think I should though? I’m not really a hookup type of guy.”

 

Yumichika turned to Ichigo, still holding the joint. “I think,” he said after a moment, “if you want to, you shouldn’t hold back just because you think you _shouldn’t_. Ikkaku and I didn’t get together for the longest time cause I didn’t want to make it weird, but I’m glad I did. I’m not saying you’re gonna date this dude or anything, I just mean that you gotta put yourself out there sometimes.”

 

“I know.”

 

The door to the house behind them closed with an abrupt slam. In front of it stood the tall pirate in black, his thumbs looped into his belt.

 

“I’ll call in 15 minutes if you need an out,” Yumichika whispered into Ichigo’s ear, resting his hand on the other’s shoulder. With a wink towards Ichigo and a wave to his, at this point, very high, friends on the other end of the porch, Yumichika slid past the muscular frame blocking the door, conspicuously dragging his hand across the man’s biceps and flashing a polite, apologetic smile before disappearing back into the house.

 

“Lost you for a minute there.”

 

“Mmmm, sorry, it’s hard to get to know someone with the ambient sounds of hurling in the background,” Ichigo said, flippantly.

 

“Do you know him?” The guy had taken Yumichika’s spot leaning on the porch railing and jutted his thumb towards the door.

 

“Yeah, you?”

 

“Seen him around. I guess he knows a lot of people. You here with friends?”

 

“A few, though I don’t know most people here.”

 

“You know me.”

 

“I don’t know if that’s true. Do you know me?”

 

“I’d like to.”

 

The atmosphere around them buzzed, the sound of the smoker’s unintelligible conversation seemed to fade away, though the words just spoken between the pair hung in the air. Ichigo tried to find something around them to focus on. His eyes flicked from his own hands to the floor, then the man’s boots. The rusted old grill behind him. The black-clad shoulders of the heavy presence in front of him. The exposed clavicle that connected to the other shoulder. Back down to the other’s hands. Up to the hard jawline, where an expectant grin was waiting on slightly parted lips. Bright blue eyes pierced through the mask, searching Ichigo’s own face for any reaction at all.

 

Their lips met before Ichigo could look away.

 

A strong but decidedly gentle hand pulled his head in close. The touch somehow cautious without wanting to push its luck. After a few moments, the man pulled away from the surprisingly chaste kiss.

 

“Would you, uhh, would you like to...” the man stuttered, his confidence fading for the first time.

 

Ichigo grabbed the hand that was still lingering on his cheek and started leading the way off the porch. The pair turned the corner around the house and Ichigo turned to the owner of the hand he was holding. All initial hesitation was gone.

 

The gap between them was closed quickly, neither of them bothering with niceties anymore. Desperate hands latched onto lean, hard torsos, working their way up each other’s arms and around each other’s necks.

 

Ichigo’s blood was racing. It had been ages since he had gotten to press himself against someone else, feeling their heat in the cold, October night air. He pressed his lips against the bitter tasting mouth, knowing he must have tasted the same. What started as gentle presses were quickly becoming wild, searching explorations, up jawlines, down necks, and lightly biting on lips. Ichigo let his hands wander, feeling his way up and down the muscular sides of his temporary partner. Hands tightened around Ichigo’s core, one pulling him close, the other dipping a thumb into Ichigo’s waistband.

 

Ichigo was past the nervousness he had felt earlier.  Eyes closed, his hands roamed up onto the stranger’s face. Lightly, he traced the jaw from chin to earlobe, stubble pricking him along the way. Consciously avoiding the mask, he allowed his fingers to sneak under the kerchief, intertwining with strands of hair that were trapped underneath. He used his newfound handhold to kiss back with renewed vigor, which was received as eagerly as it was given.

 

Minutes ticked by without notice. It seemed like they’d never part when Ichigo’s phone began to ring noisily. It seemed that Yumichika followed through with the promise to provide an escape if it was necessary.

 

“Ignore it,” the man breathed into Ichigo’s ear.

 

He was tempted to oblige, but the ringtone, embarrassingly set by Renji earlier in the week, was blaring Careless Whisper, and ironically, it was dampening the mood.

 

Ichigo broke away to silence it. Before he got his phone out, he looked up at the slightly taller man. The blue eyes behind the mask twinkled. Ichigo’s gaze lingered there, before taking in the large smile plastered on the face in front of him, and the wild locks of blue hair that stuck out where Ichigo had freed them.

 

Blue hair.

 

Like, really familiar blue hair.

 

Fuck.

 

Realizing who he was now standing in front of, Ichigo’s eyes and stomach dropped at the same time, looking down at the phone in the palm of his hand just as the call ended.

 

“Uh, I really should take this.”

 

“Are you sure?” the pirate pressed. “I thought we were having a nice time.”

 

“Yeah, uhh, Definitely! I mean...” Ichigo’s voice squeaked slightly, trying to remain collected. “It’s just that he was my ride so...”

 

“I can be your ride.”

 

“Right.” Ichigo coughed, the innuendo burning him up inside. “Just one sec!” He turned abruptly and walked a few paces away, holding the phone to his ear as it dialed Yumichika back.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey to you, I thought when you didn’t answer that meant you were having fun?”

 

“I am. I mean I was, anyway.”

 

“Cryptic, I love it.”

 

“No, I just mean, you know, like, what did you need?” Ichigo stuttered a bit, struggling to make the phone call seem natural.

 

“Well other than what we talked about before, I wanted to let you know that we’re about to bounce. Sado’s coming back around to pick us up and we’re all going to the diner, so offer’s on the table for that. Though I understand if you’re craving the kind of sausage you can’t order with eggs.”

 

“Yes!” Ichigo said, slightly too eagerly, ignoring Yumichika’s pointed joke. “Where do I need to meet you?”

 

“Outside the front door whenever you’re ready. Last I heard, Sado was just around the corner. Be there or be gay!”

 

The call ended with a beep. Ichigo turned back around to properly face the man, who was still grinning slightly, his posture relaxed with his arms crossing his chest. Ugh, god. He could really just stand there and look good.

 

“What’s the word, then?”

 

“I uh, I’ve actually got to go. I forgot I promised to meet up with someone.” Ichigo lied, unconvincingly.

 

Genuine disappointment flashed across what Ichigo could see of his face. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I had fun at least, did you?”

 

“Yeah, I really did.” Ichigo didn’t have to lie this time, though knowing who he had been pressed up against certainly put the experience in a different light.

 

“Can I, uh, get your name?”

 

Ichigo laughed, a bit unintentionally. The question actually brought a lot of relief, since he realized his identity was still a secret. He was really going to have to thank Yumichika for the dye job.

 

“Doesn’t that ruin the fun?” Ichigo asked, now confident that Grimmjow hadn’t realized who he’d been swapping spit with. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

 

“I suppose you’re right.”

 

“Well, until next time. Have a good night!” Ichigo said turning away.

 

“Como deseés.”

 

Ichigo flashed one more grin behind him and headed towards the front of the house to meet his friends.

 

Sado was parked out front, Yumichika leaning on the open sliding door.

 

“Took you long enough,” he said smirking, a mischievous look on his face.

 

“Ah, yeah, thanks for waiting.”

 

“Ichiiiiiiiii, let’s goooooooooo,” came a voice from the very back seat. “I neeeeeed frieeessssss.”

 

“Is that Orihime?” Ichigo whispered to Yumichika.

 

“Yeah, she’s feeling good.”

 

“I’d be feeling good if we were en route to the diner. Where were you?” Rukia asked from the center row. Renji and Ikkaku were crammed in the back next to Orihime, who seemed to be going strong against all odds.

 

“Just in the bathroom! Let’s go!”

 

Ichigo took the front seat next to Sado, and Yumichika pulled the passenger door closed behind him.

 

“Pass me the aux cord!” Ikkaku yelled from the back.

 

“You’re too far, sorry,” Rukia said flatly, not sounding sorry at all. Her phone was plugged in and she had a playlist of throwbacks going. Ikkaku’s complaint was soon drowned out by the entire car yelling along to the chorus of The Sweater Song by Weezer.

 

They pulled into their favorite late night spot, a bizarre 24hr restaurant called Buccaneer Diner 2. The exterior of the building was pirate themed, though the inside was painted entirely in blue, green, pink, and yellow pastels, with vague nautical notions scattered about the room. The restaurant never had more than ten other people in it, employees included, but the food was cheap and filling, perfect after a night out.

 

“I can’t believe we still haven’t found Buccaneer Diner 1,” Renji remarked, as they settled into the large, circular booth in the corner, big enough for all seven of them.

 

“I think it burned down,” Rukia said, based on seemingly nothing.

 

“And they just built this one on top of it?” Orihime’s eyes widened, her gullible nature only heightened by her slightly intoxicated state.

 

“Mmmm. Like a phoenix from the ashes. I can only hope the rest of you can have as successful a glow up,” Yumichika said, sassily flipping his hair.

 

“Maybe that’s why it feels so haunted here?” Ikkaku laughed, one arm slung around Yumichika’s shoulders.

 

Ichigo studied the menu. Next to the breakfast section, an illustration of a particularly flamboyant pirate stared back at him. It reminded him of the other gay, though much more subdued, pirate he had been with that night.

 

What the fuck? What the fuck was he thinking? What kind of association was that? Either way, it was time to come to grips with the fact that he had just been making out with Grimmjow.

 

Okay, yeah, he had just been making out with Grimmjow. Was that so hard to say? So what?

 

So that’s weird, fine, he’d admit it. To say that they had never gotten along was, well, an understatement. They’d been at each other’s throats since high school, literally fighting any chance they got. Even now in college, they barely managed to be civil in their shared class. Ichigo had never seen this charming, flirty side. It had to be fake, right?

 

Ichigo couldn’t stop staring at the illustration when a shove from Renji let him know the waitress was waiting on his order. Looking up from the menu, he ordered the breakfast special #1, which was basically the only thing he could think of since the pirate illustration was pointing its sword right at it.

 

When the waitress left, Ichigo excused himself and headed towards the bathroom to go wash his hands, no doubt disgusting from the night. Renji followed.

 

The bathrooms were as oddly decorated as the rest of the diner. The tiled walls were covered in little yellow flowers that looked like they had been drawn on by elementary school students in puffy paint, while a large lobster trap hung from the ceiling, plastic crustaceans inside.

 

Ichigo was furiously scrubbing at his hands while Renji broke the seal at the urinals behind him. Once he finished, he joined Ichigo at the sinks.

 

“So, good night?”

 

“Oh, yeah, definitely one for the books.”

 

“Mm, really? Cause you’re acting a bit off.  Want to clue in your straight best friend?”

 

“You can just say best friend,” Ichigo sighed. “You don’t need a modifier.”

 

“I know, but Yumi is your gay best friend. I don’t know I thought I’d give it a try,” Renji said, seeming surprisingly disappointed that the nickname wouldn’t stick. “Anyway, you have to tell me what’s going on, it’s the law. Besides, I saw that one dude lusting after you like all night long so, as your gay best friend would say, spill.” He emphasized the last word with a faux hair flip, stealing Yumichika’s signature move.

 

“Okay! Okay, you broke me down. It’s not like it’s a secret. I uh, well. I was making out with that guy, you know the one dressed as a pirate...”

 

“Get it.”

 

“Shut up”

 

“I’m being supportive!”

 

“Shut up, anyway, we were making out, and I realized, ‘cause of his hair, that it was Grimmjow. Like Grimmjow from our class.”

 

A heavy pause followed, accented by a shocked look on Renji’s face. “Yeah, cause we know so many Grimmjow’s,” Renji said, finally breaking the tension.

 

“So.. yeah... that’s what’s up. I mean, like nothing happened, other than, ya know, just uh, general groping,’ Ichigo finished, anticlimactically.

 

“Okay. Did he realize it was you? Not for nothing, but you look distinctly like, well, not you, to be honest,” Renji said, gesturing wildly at Ichigo.

 

Ichigo turned back to the mirror. Now that his mask was off, it was easier to look like himself, but still, Renji had a point. He may as well have been walking around in someone else’s skin, considering the all black, and the tight sweater that he’d never wear on a regular day.

 

“No, I don’t think he did,” Ichigo said, almost sad. “He did ask for my name though.

 

“Damn, you should have gotten his number,” Renji said.

 

“I already have it, idiot, we’re lab partners.”

 

“Right. Well. Hmm.” For once, Renji was at a loss for words.

 

“I don’t know what to do. I mean, nothing, right? This was just a weird fluke and ultimately means nothing.”

 

“Do you like him?” Renji stared at Ichigo, the way only best friends can when they know you’re lying to yourself.

 

“I don’t know. He ranges from either ignoring me entirely or being outright hostile towards me, but tonight he was like, kind and flirty and funny? I didn’t know he was capable of that. Plus,” Ichigo said after a pause, “he’s like, really hot.”

 

“Yeah, that’s true.”

 

“Wow, coming from my straight best friend?”

 

“I have eyes, Ichigo, I know a specimen when I see one,” Renji said, indignantly.

 

Ichigo started howling with laughter, and Renji joined in, despite himself.

 

“I think I have the perfect plan,” Renji said, trying to catch his breath. “Here’s what needs to happen. In class on Monday, you wear this exact outfit, without the ears and tail obviously,” he added, when he saw Ichigo start to protest, “and just go about class really casually. Then at the end of class, ask him how his weekend was. Bonus if you say yours was ‘purrfect’.”

 

“That is...” Ichigo contemplated for a moment. “That, actually could work, but I think I would rather die? Is that bad to say?”

 

Renji laughed. “No, not at all, I would also die. I don’t know man. We can figure it out together though if you want. Let’s head back upstairs, our food is getting cold and they’re gonna think we’re sucking each other off down here or something.”

 

“Disgusting, let’s go.”

 

The pair made their way back to the table. They sat back down to see their food had arrived. Ichigo dug in, hoping that the eggs and bacon would stave off the hangover that was looming for tomorrow morning. He’d deal with everything later. For now, he took a moment to appreciate what he had; six people around him, who genuinely wanted the best for him.

 

Later that night, though it was technically morning, Ichigo trudged back into his own dorm. Exhausted as he was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep yet. Instead, he went into the communal bathroom that was shared by all the men on his floor. It was completely deserted at this hour. He claimed one of the shower stalls and let the water run while he got undressed.

 

When the water was sufficiently warm, he stepped under the showerhead, letting the water flow over his shoulders and down his back. The little rivers running over his head and body started to turn black as the hair dye loosened itself from Ichigo’s hair and ran towards the drain. He watched the water that pooled on the shower floor turn opaque, and spiral around before disappearing into the pipes below him. With it, he let his anxieties of the night disappear too. He lost track of time and stood in the scalding water until both his mind and the water were clear.


	2. Chapter 2

Grimmjow’s hands were tinged with something black. 

 

He hadn’t noticed it until he got home that night. It was obvious that those drama kids really needed to run a mop in that basement, but damn. Gross. Back in the bathroom of his dorm, he scrubbed at his palms suspiciously, but luckily it came off with a little force. His hair fell in his face annoyingly while he worked at the sink; eventually, he decided to call it a night before he decided to shave his head in frustration.

 

In his own bed, Grimmjow couldn’t help but feel the full effects of his earlier embarrassment, heightened by the heavy, burning alcohol in his stomach. What did he do that had made that other guy basically run away? They had really clicked, in some way that he didn’t quite understand. Both of them were hot, both, wanted to mess around. Wasn’t that what it was all about? So what?

 

At least his dignity was spared. He didn’t know the other guy, the other guy didn’t know him. Honestly, if more hookups could be like that, the world would be a better place.   
  


It was frustrating though. I mean, come on! Who was he? Grimmjow raked a hand through his hair in annoyance. He had recognized two of the people that his would-be hook up had been with. Renji and Rukia. They were in one of his classes, and he’d seen them around, but he actively ignored just about everything they did, so that was basically a dead end. It wasn’t like he knew any of their other friends, except Ichigo, obviously, and Orihime. Wait, she was at the party too. Huh. 

 

Either way, there was no good way to ask them about it, since he had literally never gone out of his way to talk to them. Rukia would probably get suspicious on why he was talking to them; she was way too sharp to not figure it out.

 

The worst part of it was that, despite the fact that he had been masked, he felt so vulnerable. Usually, with hookups, it was easy in, easy out. He could be gruff and coarse, and that was fine because people already knew he was like that coming in. With this, he had actively tried to be cool and funny, and, dare he even think it, a little flirty. And it didn’t pay off. 

 

Well, fuck it. He’d stick to what he knew. He was attractive enough to get away with being a dick, and it worked for him. No need to change a formula that basically guaranteed success.

 

Monday came too fast. Grimmjow’s Sunday had been spent almost entirely in the studio, catching up on work he had ignored. The thing about being a fine arts major was that while business majors could shit out an essay in 45 minutes and still get an A; if he only spent an hour on something, his professors would completely rip him for it. 

 

At least his first class wasn’t super early. An 11 AM start meant he could roll out of bed at 10:30 and still make it to class on time, though sometimes, like today, he pushed his luck. He had grabbed the first pair of dark jeans he saw, pulled on a white tee shirt and a paint-covered flannel that had been hanging off the frame of his bed. He was still stuffing his arms into his leather jacket while half running down the stairs out of the building. 

 

His first class went by in a snap. It was mostly note-taking and lecture, which was fine by him. In the seat next to him, Ichigo sat quietly, only occasionally sharing a passing remark with Renji, though, Grimmjow noticed, Ichigo never started a conversation. He was keeping to himself and hadn’t even said anything to Grimmjow beyond an initial, half-hearted greeting. 

 

Whatever. He had other things going on. It was going to be a late night in the studio if he ever wanted to finish his landscape assignment, and he was sure that was basically impossible. His only chance was to load up on coffee and hope for the best. 

 

\---

 

The old, digital alarm clock on the desk read 1:58, a little red dot on the side indicating AM. Grimmjow rubbed his bleary eyes with a sigh and looked out to the large window in the painting studio, only to see his own reflection blinking back, and inky blackness beyond it. 

 

Sometimes you just have to know when to call it quits. 

 

The canvas Grimmjow was working on had sat basically untouched for the past twenty minutes; the brush strokes that formed the craggy, harsh desert landscape had long since dried. Everyone else in the studio had left long ago, and Grimmjow’s motivation had faded steadily once he had no one else keeping him on task. After lazily cleaning his brushes, he packed up his bag, leaving his desk messy just as the other students had. 

 

It was a quick walk back to his dorm. The campus was eerily quiet, and a light, hazy rain was falling, making the light from nearby street lamps fuzzy as they guided him home. Once he was back, it took almost nothing to fall asleep. He didn’t even bother to take off his jeans, just kicked off his muddy combat boots at the door and fell into bed. 

 

He awoke with a start. His heart was racing too much, startled by the flashing light and the noise that sounded like a cross between a car alarm and a dying goose. He’d only been asleep for 20 minutes. Fire drill. 

 

“You’ve gotta be fucking  _ kidding  _ me!” A voice yelled out in the hall. The noises of other students leaving their dorms added to the general din. Grimmjow briefly considered staying in bed. Maybe this was just a nightmare? 

 

It wasn’t. The doors slamming and the shrill voice of the RA made the fire alarm impossible to ignore. Begrudgingly, he grabbed his jacket off the bedpost and joined the herd of sleepy, pissed off students that were filing down the stairs and outside.

 

A vicious wind whipped around, promising that winter would come sooner than later. The light rain from Grimmjow’s walk home was steadily turning heavier. It was  _ cold.  _ It was  _ wet.  _ And he had forgotten his phone. He would have forgotten his keys too, but luckily he had left them in his jacket pocket. The patio area next to the building was overflowing with students, all standing around in various versions of bedclothes and sweatpants. At least he wasn’t the only one who was miserable.

 

The firefighters finally arrived after what had to be fifteen minutes of standing in the cold. Though the sirens sounded hurried, the firemen themselves definitely weren’t. They must have thought it was just some freshmen burning popcorn or something. Cabrones.

 

Grimmjow settled in on a low retaining wall. This might as well happen, right? Arms over his chest, he bent his head down and closed his eyes. Man, he wished this jacket had a hood. He was probably tired enough to pretend to fall asleep for a little bit.

 

“Jaegerjaques.” A sharp voice broke through the general noise of displaced students. 

 

Grimmjow blinked several times. He peered up through heavy eyelids to see Ichigo Kurosaki standing over him, hands deep in the pockets of his windbreaker and a heavy looking backpack slung over his shoulders. It was nearly impossible to see his face. His head was blocking the street lamp, a halo of diffused light shining around his spiky head.

 

“What?” It was the only response Grimmjow had ready to go. He was too tired for this shit. 

 

“You live here?” It wasn’t a question.

 

“Obviously. I’m not standing around for nothing.” Grimmjow looked back down, intending it to be a dismissal. But Ichigo just stood there, his eyes hidden behind his hair.

 

“You’ve got white paint on your face.” Ichigo finally broke the silence. He gestured on his own face, swiping along his cheekbone.

 

Grimmjow felt his face. It was dried, the texture cracking under his fingertips. Inspecting his hands and nails, he realized his hasty brush cleaning job meant his hands were a mess too. A wave of weird embarrassment washed over him. He scrubbed at his cheek a bit, little flecks coming off. 

 

“It’s still there.”

 

Who fucking asked this jerk?“The fuck are you doing out here then?”

 

“I was in the library.”

 

“The library closed hours ago. They would have kicked you out.”

 

“Not if you hide in the bathroom.”

 

“Jesus Christ, they don’t come nerdier than you, huh?”

 

Ichigo turned his head into the light, scowling. Good. The look suited him. What kind of person hides in a stall just to spend a couple more hours with a bunch of books?

 

A whistle blew over by the doors to the dorm building, drawing Grimmjow’s attention. A grumble rolled through the crowd. 

 

“What’s happening?” asked a very small boy, a freshman judging by the lanyard, who standing near Grimmjow. 

 

“It was an actual fire, so they can’t let us back in for a while,” replied some other tiny girl. 

 

“Is the building okay?” the first boy asked, panicking 

 

“Apparently someone on the third floor was trying to have a seance,” a third voice piped up. 

 

“Either way, we aren’t getting back in for a while.”

 

Grimmjow looked back at Ichigo, who was pushing his hair out of eyes with one hand. The dampness from the light rain kept it combed back in place, making the sheepish look on the guy’s face much more apparent. 

 

“Hey, look, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, you can come back to my dorm.”

 

“That’s a bold offer, Kurosaki.”

 

“It’s up to you, I just figured I’d put it out there. I wouldn’t have said anything if you didn’t look so pathetic out here.”

 

Well, that got Grimmjow’s blood boiling. The fuck did he think he was? 

 

Apparently, Ichigo could see the hackles raised; he immediately backed down. How unexpected. “I mean it though. If you want to. It’s gotta be better than staying out here.”

 

Reluctantly, Grimmjow stood up. It wasn’t ideal, but like hell was he going to spend all fucking night out in the rain. Besides, he really didn’t have anywhere else to go. The studio was locked up, plus who was he going to call without a phone? 

 

The students around them were starting to disperse, some headed towards other dorms, but most were going in the direction of the student center to wait out the rest of the night somewhere marginally drier. Fuck it. 

 

“Fine.”

 

Undisguised shock flashed across Ichigo’s face but was quickly replaced with a light smile. 

 

“Fine. Let’s go, then.”

 

Ichigo started off towards one of the nearby buildings, and Grimmjow quickly fell into step right behind him. The pair walked in silence until they arrived at Ichigo’s door. A name tag shaped like a soccer ball was the only thing on it. They were on the sixth floor of a building Grimmjow had never entered. When Ichigo opened the door, Grimmjow couldn’t help but stare a little bit. It felt more like a studio apartment than a dorm room. 

 

“Damn, Kurosaki, what’s up with this room?” 

 

“Oh, it’s technically a double.”

 

“But it’s just you?”

 

“Yeah, well, I think it’s a clerical error. I’ve been alone in this room for the past two years, and I don’t want to ask about it in case they take it away,” Ichigo laughed a little nervously, running his hand through his still-wet hair.

 

“Well, shit. You really won the fuckin’ lottery with this one.”

 

A modest couch was in one corner, facing a standard dormitory desk that was cluttered in papers that seemed like a purposeful sort of chaos. The twin bed took up the wall with the window, which looked out at Grimmjow’s own building. The lights of the fire engines shone and refracted in the drops of water that were racing each other down the outside of the window. 

 

Ichigo took his shoes off at the door and Grimmjow followed suit. He stood awkwardly as Ichigo settled in, hastily messing with stuff on the desk before pulling a blanket and pillow out of the closet.  

 

“You want sweatpants?”

 

“No. Thank you,” he added as an afterthought. He shouldn’t be a dick, after all. 

 

The room was much cleaner than Grimmjow’s own. The bed was made, for one. A large bookshelf lived next to the desk, filled to the brim. Even then, books were spilling out into neat, organized piles next to it. The walls were mostly empty, but there were a few photos on the wall, a university pennant, and last year’s poster for the school’s soccer team, which prominently featured both Ichigo and Renji. Over the bed hung a stylized drawing of an old Japanese house. 

 

Grimmjow wandered over to the desk to investigate the photos. He’d never get another chance like this. Another photo of the soccer team. A photo of him and Rukia at their high school graduation. An old family portrait featuring a very small Ichigo, his father, holding two little girls, and a very beautiful woman with copper hair that Grimmjow could only assume was Ichigo’s mother. 

 

“You’re all set,” Ichigo called. He patted the pillow on the couch as if he was making sure it was soft enough. He had changed into his own sweatpants at some point. How did Grimmjow miss that? “I’m just going to pass out, I imagine you want to crash too.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” With little ceremony, they both crawled into their respective beds. If Grimmjow hadn’t been so sleepy, he might have noticed Ichigo hesitating, eyeing him with a mixture of concern and something else. 

 

“Good night,” Ichigo said, turning out the lights. Grimmjow didn’t reply. He was already half asleep, and couldn’t be certain if the words were real or imagined. 

 

—

 

Grimmjow woke up naturally. It was warm, bright, and quiet in the room. He blinked a couple times, appreciating how cozy he was. 

 

Wait, hold on. 

 

He sat up abruptly, taking in his surroundings. He was in Kurosaki’s room. And Ichigo was. Somewhere. Not here, that’s for sure. 

 

Stretching, he looked around. The bed was made, and a piece of paper was taped to the door, the writing too small to read from the couch. His eyes continued to swivel around, finally landing on a clock next to the bed. Grimmjow’s eyes widened. It was 2:15. Fucking PM. Well fuck. He wasn’t gonna be going to class then. 

 

The initial shock faded away. That explained why he felt so damn well rested. No need to jump out of bed at this point, he might as well make the most of the impromptu day off. Like a cat, he stretched on the couch, rolling onto his hands and knees and arching his back.

 

Grimmjow played with the idea of falling back asleep. The room was the perfect temperature, which was basically unheard of, considering in his own dorm you had to choose between whatever the temperature was outside or boiling hot with the heat on, even the lowest setting. The blanket smelled nice and clean, like Ichigo’s detergent. The place was a veritable hotel room, honestly. One needling thought danced at the back of his mind. He could really use a shower. 

 

After about 20 minutes, that thought got the best of him. Besides, he had no idea when Ichigo would get back, and it would be pretty nice to avoid the whole awkward morning-after talk. To be fair, Ichigo had been pretty damn decent, and all things considered, his night could have been really awful. Reluctantly, Grimmjow pulled himself off the couch and folded up the blanket. He wandered over to the door to inspect the note: ‘Gone to class, didn’t want to wake you. Make sure the door locks behind you.” Not necessarily a dismissal, but not an invitation to stay. Not that he wanted to.

 

He grabbed his jacket off the desk chair where it had been offhandedly thrown the night before, and glanced around, back at the photos. Damn, he wished he had his phone to take a picture of Baby Kurosaki. Would have been great blackmail material. Well, no reason to stick around. As he shrugged on his coat, something caught his eye. 

 

A black ribbon dangled over the side of the desk, attached to the corner of something rigid lying underneath a stack of precariously perched papers. Whatever it was made the pile of notes buckle and fold unevenly, which looked weird, considering everything else was so organized. Almost like... almost like this thing was stashed away in a poor attempt to hide it. 

 

Carefully, trying not to disturb the heap of documents that served as camouflage, Grimmjow pulled on the ribbon. Realization dawned, sharp and painful. It was a mask. A black cat masquerade mask with painted white whiskers that Grimmjow was intimately familiar with. A mask that Grimmjow had thought about almost non-stop since Friday night. 

 

Shoving it roughly back under the papers, Grimmjow did something he had never done before. He ran away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to oldtown156 and EspadaIV for some help getting my act together.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello! This isn't a real chapter. Just wanted you to know that I'm not abandoning this, just sort of starting over. If you liked this, check out my other story, Not So Easy A. It's going to start a couple months before the this fic and build out the events leading up to it. Thank you for sticking with me! ~ Pearl


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